


Death of a Broken Heart

by AngryMintLeaf



Category: Red vs Blue, rvb - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bullet wound, Character Death, Gore, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngryMintLeaf/pseuds/AngryMintLeaf
Summary: The corpse stares into him, eyes gleamed over and unmoving. This isn't real, he repeats into his head, This isn't real.





	

 

 

 

> _It's all just too loud._

The pelican crash, the screaming, the gun fire. It's all just too loud. Wash covers his ears trying to focus on the snow that he is currently kneeled in. 

 _Maine._ _What happened to Maine?_ _  
_

He looks up, hoping that what he saw was just a dream. That Maine didn't fall off the cliff to his death. His eyes search the area, looking for Maine's white armor, but his vision caught onto a limp body. Wash stands up, half hoping that the body is just someone knocked out. He looms over it now, mind not receiving what is right in front of him.

_Tucker?_

He kneels down, releasing the hatches on Tucker's helmet. He grits his teeth, draining out what the simulation troopers are yelling at him. How did they get here so fast?

Tuckers eyes were gleamed and rolled back, his breathing stilled and body unmoving. Wash notices the bright red stain seeping out of the front of his armor.

That couldn't be blood. Not his. Definitely not his. His hands start to shake, as he cups Tucker's head. This isn't real, it's  _not_ real. Warm streams trickle down Wash's eyes, his throat choking up, and a new waver in his voice.

"Wash, you need to move!" He doesn't know who says it, it's all just too loud. Too loud. 

"He's not dead is he?"

"Caboose don't look."

"Wash, move away!" 

Wash bites his lip, eyes turning away, but hands still on Tucker. 

" **Be quiet**!" Wash screams at them, "You can't tell me he's dead" His voice crumbles, the end of the sentence going practically inaudible.

A hand lies on his shoulder, comforting, but not Tucker's. Tucker's  _dead._ But he was breathing, fighting, living just minutes earlier.

"Don't touch me!" He shakes the hand off of him. "He was just-" He swallows, "-what happened to him?" 

"Well," The voice coming from Doc, "One bullet, it seems, went through his Kevlar suit, probably went through his heart." 

Wash stands up, ignoring the tears going down his face, ignoring the corpse of someone he loved. If he were just there to help him, to take the bullet for him. Things wouldn't have ended up this way. It would be him lying there instead, and right now, that seems like it certainly should have been the outcome. 

He looks around him, Simmons awkwardly walking Caboose into the tower, and the rest surrounding him, except for Church.

It's... not real.

 

* * *

 

 

 Wash doesn't know how much time has past, but he does know that he's gone. Left the troopers. Being around them just felt like Tucker's presence was there, his playful mood and confidence. He doesn't know where he is, or how long he has been gone, but currently, lying cold in the snow would have to work. 

He could have done something, anything to help. To be exact, all of this was his fault. Just because he didn't want to go back to prison, he saw two people that was close to him die. Maine. Tucker. Why did it have to be them? Why did Maine have to get Sigma? Why wasn't it Wash instead of Tucker? 

A red flash appears on his visor, warning him of hypothermia. Indeed, he feels like limbs are starting to go numb, and lying in the snow won't help.

What's the point?

He doesn't have to go back to the simulation troopers, and if he did, he surely would be sent back to prison where he would suffer there. 

His eyes dart to his pistol, his finger itching to pull it. If he doesn't  kill himself, the weather certainly will. No one has come to look for him ether, it seems. Why would they care. 

Washington sits up, taking the helmet off of his head and pointing his gun right on himself. 

_Pull the trigger, Pull the trigger, Pull the trigger, Pull the trigger, Pull the trigger, Pull the trigger, Pull the-_

_..._

_It's all too quiet._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was inspired by something my mom said: "Sometimes people die from a broken heart", and I immediately thought of this. Thanks for reading-


End file.
